


Chase the Light With You

by ErikaWilliams



Category: Final Fantasy XV
Genre: Fluff and Angst, M/M, World of Ruin, Zine: Just You And Me Baby - A Promptio Zine
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-17
Updated: 2019-04-17
Packaged: 2020-01-15 11:50:15
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,385
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18498370
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ErikaWilliams/pseuds/ErikaWilliams
Summary: It started with five words scribbled in the top margin of the book Gladio was carrying on his way back from seeing Noct and his new friend safely home. 'Noct's friend is kinda cute,' he wrote down with a pencil stub as the door closed behind him. When he got home, he shelved the book and forgot about it. Writing something like that down had been a mistake, but he had to get it out of his system. He couldn't tell Noct about it because he would never hear the end of it, and Ignis would just tell Noct. He didn't want to know what Iris would think about the situation. Besides, he hadn't planned on seeing Noct's friend again.





	Chase the Light With You

**Author's Note:**

> My piece for the Just You and Me Baby Promptio Zine! 
> 
> You can check out everyone else's amazing contributions at the link below. Everyone did such a great job, and I'm so happy to have been a part of it.  
> [Promptio Zine](https://www.deviantart.com/promptiozine/art/Just-You-Me-Baby-A-Promptio-Zine-NSFW-790741917)

It started with five words scribbled in the top margin of the book Gladio was carrying on his way back from seeing Noct and his new friend safely home _. 'Noct's friend is kinda cute,'_ he wrote down with a pencil stub as the door closed behind him. When he got home, he shelved the book and forgot about it. Writing something like that down had been a mistake, but he had to get it out of his system. He couldn't tell Noct about it because he would never hear the end of it, and Ignis would just tell Noct. He didn't want to know what Iris would think about the situation. Besides, he hadn't planned on seeing Noct's friend again.

 

The second note had been a place and a time. He had chanced upon Prompto on his morning jog and ended up joining him on his route. They had agreed to meet up the next day, and since he only had his reading material with him, he marked it down in his book with the same sharpie Prompto used to mark the information down on the back of his forearm.

 

Years passed and he started writing more frequent notes about Prompto. When they were all together, he would write observations down in his book. Just the little things, like the way Prompto would sometimes fidget with his wristband when he thought no one was watching, or the way he got so absorbed in his photography that the rest of them seemed to fade from existence. Sometimes he would write down the way Prompto’s face would light up whenever someone would mention chocobos and the birds would dominate the conversation for at least the next half hour.

 

Then the long night started, and he didn't know where Prompto was anymore. Half the time he didn't know where he was. One outpost looked just like the next, the only difference being who was bunking with him. They would cram in five or six hunters at one time. That night, he was fortunate enough to be the first one to check in. It meant he could actually sleep on one of the beds instead of on the hard floor. It meant he could always pretend to be asleep when the others came in and avoid the awkwardness that came along with wondering if he should try to be friendly with a stranger who might not live to see the next day. Most importantly, it meant he could have some time to himself.

 

He climbed into the top bunk on the left, sinking into the lumpy mattress. He pulled out one of his books and stared at the chocobo on the cover. Set on a chocobo ranch, it was a Duscae romance that he had probably read at least a hundred times.

 

He was ten pages in when he came across the note he had written a lifetime ago. ' _Noct's friend is kinda cute.'_ He looked around the cramped bedroom of the caravan, realizing how empty it was for the first time. Ignis would have been cooking dinner out in the kitchen area. Noct and Prompto would have been outside, playing one of their games. Maybe he would have joined them, or maybe he would have read a book instead. He should have joined them more, but now it was too late for that. All he could do now was try to remember the way things had been.

 

He got off the bed and making his way into the common area, pulled open the drawers and rifled through the junk. Eventually, he found a pen buried at the back behind the much more necessary batteries and matches. It took a few tries to get the ink flowing, but it finally produced a very faint blue line. He made his way back to the bedroom and opened back to his previous note.

 

_'Wish you were here now,'_ he wrote on the opposite page. When he closed the book, it was almost as if he could erase the years separating the sentiments. He didn't even acknowledge when the other hunters started filing into the room. The one person he wanted to see wouldn't be coming.

 

Days dragged into weeks then months maybe, though the passage of time was getting more difficult to mark. He made another trip to Lestallum to check in on Iris and asked if anyone else had checked in recently, only to hear that he had just missed Prompto.

 

_'I miss the sun,'_ he wrote on the inside cover of his latest book, but it wasn't just the sun he missed. It was everything that had come along with the sun. Warmth, endless hours on the back of a chocobo, the golden light, the way Prompto would get excited about how a particular photograph had turned out.

 

Two weeks after he left Lestallum, he found a chocobo feather while traveling between outposts. He had heard the reports that most of the wildlife was slowly going extinct. The chocobo had a lot of natural predators and it didn't seem likely they were going to survive. There it had been though, stuck upright between two rocks. It was still bright, a beacon against the barren landscape, and he picked it up, twirling it between his fingers. It was free of blood. The owner might still be alive.

 

That night, he sat surrounded by three strangers, his book in one hand and the chocobo feather in the other. Prompto would love to know that chocobos were still alive in the wild, but he had no idea how to reach him. Cell service was considered non essential in the fight against the daemons. There had to be other ways to leave messages for someone. Those not seeking refuge in Lestallum frequently visited the outposts.

 

He opened to the first page of the book and pulled out his pen. _'Prompto, thought you might like this feather. I'm sure it's owner is still out there raising hell somewhere.'_ He pressed the feather in the front of the book, sticking out enough to be seen, and placed everything in one of the cabinets. If Prompto saw the feather, he would be sure to pick up the book.

 

It was at least three weeks before he dragged himself back to that outpost. When he got inside the caravan, the first thing he did was check the cupboard. The book was still there, but the feather was gone. Anyone could have pulled that feather out, so he tried to remain calm as he pulled the book from its resting place. He didn't know what he was expecting to find, but he opened the book to the page where he had left the note.

 

_'Dude! Did you actually see the chocobo? All I've seen the last couple of months is daemons.'_

 

With a grin that he would have denied to anyone who would have walked in at the moment, he turned to the next page.

 

_'Didn't see it, but that feather was fresh, and if that chocobo is anything like you, I'm sure it's doing just fine._ ' He placed the book back on the shelf, not sure if that would be the end of it or if Prompto would send him something else. The next time he checked back, another message was waiting for him. None of the messages were ever earth-shattering; they were more of a whisper saying, _I'm still here, I'm still alive_. He always sent a message back with the same quiet desperation, the need to reach out to something familiar in a world that was drastically changing.

 

After a year or so, he almost didn't make it back. A large snake got the jump on him after he had been out for far longer than he intended. He somehow through luck or divine intervention had managed to take it down and escape with his life, but not without a wound in his shoulder. It seemed impossible to treat by himself, and there was the distinct possibility that there was venom coursing through his blood. He staggered into the outpost, no one there to check him in and crashed through the caravan door. He snatched the book from its shelf and tumbled into the closest bed. He didn't bother looking for Prompto's latest message, just opened to a blank page and started to scribble in the margins.

 

_'Remember that time that snake snatched you up. I thought you were a goner for sure. I never did-'_

 

The pen scrawled across the page as he slipped into unconsciousness. His dreams were hazy and frequent. Prompto was there with him, his hands gentle on his shoulder as he tended to his wounds. Prompto was always so diligent about checking up on him while most had always just expected him to keep going like nothing had happened, or assumed he couldn't be hurt.

 

When he regained consciousness, his shoulder stuck to the sheets a little when he tried to sit up. He glanced over what he had written. He needed to finish the message somehow.

 

_'-forgive myself for letting it get you.'_ He was supposed to protect them, and he had let them all down. First Ignis, then Prompto and finally Noct, each with more dire consequences than the last. _'One of those snakes almost got me._ ' He stayed for a few days to recover, listening to the daemons prowling outside the perimeter and waiting for the lights to fail. No one else came while he was there. The outpost was lost, so he took the book with him when he left.

 

The next time he checked in somewhere, he left the book out on the counter. How else would Prompto be able to find it? There weren't many people leaving the safety of Lestallum, and no one would take it. Each time he came back to the outpost, he checked the book to see if Prompto had left any messages. He never found anything new, but that didn't stop him from writing to Prompto.

 

He left a note every visit without fail. He avoided the heavy stuff, but he wrote about everything else; about Iris training with Cor, about some of the unusual things he had seen on his travels, anything he thought Prompto might find interesting. Mostly it was all just a silent plea for Prompto to still be alive. He ran out of current events, so he started writing about the past.

 

He wrote about the first time they met. He wrote about how proud he had been when Prompto had joined the Crownsguard. He wrote about Prompto shyly asking him for modeling help with an upcoming photo contest. He wrote about the cold nights spent in the tent and how he could feel Prompto shivering next to him. How he had thought about solutions to that problem and how he had never been able to act on them.

 

He was running out of pages, and still no response. He filled every margin as if reaching out could keep Prompto alive. He was no longer the only one looking for Prompto. Other people had taken to squeezing in notes, with promises to keep an eye out for Prompto so he would know there were messages waiting. At some point he was going to have to accept the fact that Prompto was likely gone forever. When he made it to the last page, it would be time to move on.

 

He only had a few pages left. He wrote to Prompto about losing him on the train to Niflheim, how worried he had been about what Ardyn might be doing to him. Prompto hadn't liked to talk about what had happened after he had been separated from Aranea. The only injustices that existed were the ones Gladio had made up in his own mind, and now he couldn't share those fears with Prompto.

 

He reached the last page. He couldn't remember how long it had been since he had seen the sun. It was time to move on, but this might be the only goodbye he was going to get. They hadn't had a proper one the last time.

 

_'Prompto,_ ' he started writing on the inside back cover. _'I don't know if you're still alive, and no one else seems to be able to find you. I don't know what life would be like without you, but it's probably not much different than this eternal darkness we're in now. Please don't be dead.'_

 

The next time he went to that outpost, the book was gone. He tried not to read too much into it. Maybe someone had decided to clean up. Maybe someone had wanted some reading material and had taken the book with them without recognizing its significance. Some part of him wanted to believe it was Prompto, that he had taken the book with him once he realized how much had been left for him to read. He needed to believe that more than he believed Prompto was already dead. He needed to believe that maybe there was hope for the future.

 

If Prompto was still alive, it meant a future was still possible. Hope was hard to hold on to as he continued to fight the daemons. The same hope Prompto had probably felt when he had given him that chocobo feather.

 

“Oh, Gladdy, I have something for you,” Iris told him the next time he entered Lestallum, and though he wanted nothing more than to get some rest, he decided to indulge her. She produced a book with a faded chocobo feather sticking out of the pages. It couldn't possibly be the same feather, but he recognized the title of the book. It was the same book he had used for that first note he had written so many years ago, only the cover was completely missing from this copy.

 

He took it slowly from Iris, afraid of what he would find. It had to be a coincidence. He opened to the page the feather indicated and was greeted by his own handwriting, the first note he had written about Prompto. He must have left it behind. Underneath his own note was Prompto's reply to all the messages he had been sending him over the past year.

 

_'Love you too, Big Guy.'_

  



End file.
